Illusion
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: Sam's having a hard time coping with the wall coming down, but he's managing. Somehow. Dean, as always, is awesome. And then the boys meet some old friends. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **So this wasn't what I had in mind for the fic that was to be next up, but the one I _was _planning has hit a little snag with three chapters to go, and the sequel to _Dies Felices_ is taking longer than expected, so… Enjoy this plot-free bit of fun in the meantime.

Thanks, as always, to Cheryl, purveyor of awesome story prompts.

**Summary: **Sam's having a hard time coping with the wall coming down, but he's managing. Dean, as always, is awesome. And then the boys meet some old friends. Two-shot.

**Illusion**

**Part I: Sam**

It wasn't that I didn't appreciate everything Dean was doing for me. I did – I still do. I know it's not easy for him; not because he resents having to watch out for me that extra bit, but because he cares about me so much that it physically hurts him when I have an 'episode' and he can't do anything about it. I didn't think it would take long for Dean's instincts for self-preservation to win out even over _protect Sam_.

I obviously underestimated Dean's protectiveness.

But it was starting to get difficult for both of us. (_No_, Dean, you didn't make me feel like I was a burden.) I needed a break from being coddled, and Dean needed a break from coddling me. We'd had a series of difficult nights. In the immediate aftermath of the wall coming down my sense of time and space was shot to hell. The only concepts I could grasp were _with Dean_ and _away from Dean_, and God help anyone who tried to keep me _away from Dean_ when I wanted to be _with Dean_.

So we pretty much stuck to one shady motel room after another. We had enough credit cards to keep us going, and Dean was optimistic that in a few weeks I'd be ready to hit the pool tables again.

When I _was_ coherent, I was up to doing research. Dean wouldn't let me go to the library without him, and the one time he came with me he got us thrown out by propositioning the librarian, so I did most of it over the Internet.

That was how I found the case in Parkersburg, West Virginia.

The name sounded vaguely familiar when I read it. It took me a moment to figure out why: we'd lived there once. Not long – I think it was a grand total of two and a half weeks. We were there just long enough for Dean to date two cheerleaders and have them find out about each other. One of the cheerleaders had a cousin who was in my class, a nice girl – Elizabeth, I think she was called. It's hard to remember names now.

Anyway, nothing weird happened while we were in Parkersburg. Dad left us there while he chased down a poltergeist one state over. That was why I'd assumed it would be safe for us to go back. Hunters never hit the same place twice, but we'd technically never _hit _Parkersburg.

Dean had been willing, on the condition that I didn't push myself more than I could handle and listened to my awesome big brother when he told me to do something that was good for me instead of arguing with him all the time like a little bitch.

We got into the town around eight, after driving all day. It had been a good day, and normally after a good day we went to a diner together. But we'd had a long drive, and Dean decided I was tired, so the long and short of it was that he pulled in at the first motel that looked like it didn't have rats big enough to eat us and got us a room. The clerk swiped the card Dean held out to her, flicked it back at him, and pushed two keycards across the table.

We were just leaving when we came face-to-face with a girl, mid-to-late twenties, blonde hair falling around her face in what _looked_ like natural curls. She looked me over without too much interest and turned to Dean. Her eyes widened with recognition.

"_Dean Winchester?_" she asked.

Dean flushed and glanced over his shoulder, because his credit card had said 'Angus Young'. He took the girl's elbow and led her outside. I followed.

"You _are_ Dean Winchester?" the girl demanded.

"Depends on who's asking. Now what do you want?"

"And – wait a second. You're _Sam_?"

She was staring at me now. She looked like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. I didn't blame her. When we'd lived in Parkersburg I'd been even shorter than _Dean_.

"Yeah," I said, trying to study her without appearing rude. I knew that blonde hair, I knew those blue eyes –

And then it clicked.

"Liz?" I asked. "Elizabeth Peters?"

"You two know each other?" Dean said. I heard the unspoken question: _Is she freaking you out? Do you want me standing between you and the potential threat?_

"Yeah, we were in school together," I said. "Liz – well, you clearly _do _remember my brother Dean."

"You're taller," she responded. Then, seeming to remember her manners, she held out her hand to Dean. "Dean. Nice to see you again. I see you still have the Impala."

"She's my baby," Dean said, grinning.

Elizabeth gave him a token smile before speaking to me. "Sam – it's been so long! I never thought I'd see you again!"

She looked pointedly at Dean. Dean stood his ground, stubbornly refusing to take the hint. Earlier, maybe even a couple of months ago, he would've muttered something about needing to get gas and disappeared for an hour or two. He doesn't do that anymore. It's too big a risk.

But Dean _needed_ some space, and I knew that better than anyone.

"Yeah," I said. "We really should catch up."

Dean grinned awkwardly and stepped closer to me, "Sam?" _Do you really want to spend time with her? Do you remember her or are you just being polite? What are the odds that she might try to hurt you, or hurt you without trying? I really don't want to harm a woman, Sam, but if I go away and she breaks you while I'm gone, I'm going to have to._

"Dean."_I'll be fine._

He nodded slowly. "I… You want to hang out here with Elizabeth, Sammy? I've got to go get some parts for the Impala."

"Sure, Dean." I didn't particularly want to hang out with Elizabeth – I didn't think I was ever going to be able to look a relative stranger in the eye again – but I did think Dean needed some time to himself, and he'd never leave me unless he thought it was something I wanted.

"Yeah, OK." Dean still looked reluctant. Elizabeth cleared her throat. Dean shook his head, shucked off his jacket, and wrapped it around my shoulders. "Keep that. It's a cold night."

"It's June."

"_Sam._"

I sighed. "Yes, Dean."

"Don't worry," Elizabeth said wryly. "I promise to bring him home before ten o'clock."

"You're not going anywhere," Dean replied flatly. "No, I _mean_ it, Sam. You can make the eyes all you want, but _I mean it_. You stay _here_. You can sit outside, you can go inside, you can do whatever, but you do not leave the motel. You hear me? I'll be back in two hours."

I knew it would be useless to argue. "Yes, Dean."

"Sam?"

"Yes, Dean. I'll stay here."

"That's my boy. And you call me if you need _anything_. Anything at all."

"Yes, Dean."

* * *

><p>"So…" Elizabeth said when Dean had driven away.<p>

I nodded. "So. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"My parents bought this place a few years ago… The last owners were moving out of town. Mom and Dad spent their honeymoon in this motel – it was a nicer place thirty years ago – and they didn't want to see it torn down."

"And you run it?"

"Not exactly. I just come by every now and then to see if everything's OK. What are _you_ doing here, Sam? You left town in… kind of a hurry."

I shrugged. "Something came up with my dad's job. There wasn't really time to say any goodbyes. Dean and I are on a road trip right now. We were passing through the area so we figured we'd come here and see how much the town had changed."

"So… You and Dean still hang out together, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, a little puzzled by the question. "Why not?"

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You practically worshipped him. But somehow I thought you would've… grown up by now."

I was even more puzzled. "You mean I can't be on a road trip with my brother?" Because, come on, even normal people, even people with regular jobs and regular families and no demon blood in their veins, even _they_ go on road trips with their brothers, right?

"Sure you can," Elizabeth said. "But this is more than that. Most kids outgrow their hero-worship of their older siblings."

Yeah, well, most kids don't have Dean for a big brother.

I shrugged. There really wasn't any point trying to explain it. Dean was Dean; that was all there was to it, and it was more than anyone else would ever be able to understand.

"It's great to see you again," Elizabeth said after an awkward pause. "Umm… You want to go inside? I don't want Dean to blame me if you catch a cold."

I grinned and led the way to the motel room.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, I was feeling more relaxed than I would have believed possible. Elizabeth was fun – and it was nice to talk to someone who didn't know anything about me, who didn't look either like she thought I was the anti-Christ or like she was wondering when I was going to have a seizure.<p>

Dean hadn't brought our stuff in before he left, but I had my laptop, and I was doing some background research while I spoke to her. And, yeah, I know that isn't the smoothest – or the politest – thing to do when you have a pretty girl in your motel room. But I was sure nothing was going to happen. I couldn't have done that; I can't let any unsuspecting girl get mixed up in the tangled mess that is my life. And I _did_ have to finish that research.

I knew Dean would kill me if he found out. I'm not supposed to do research when he's not around, in case reading about fires and murders and all the other cheerful stuff that makes up a hunter's homework triggers an attack of Hell-memories. Elizabeth wasn't going to tell him, though, so I thought I was safe.

I _was_ – until I found the first useful article.

The case, incidentally, was a suspected black dog. How the hell one of those got into a crowded urban area I couldn't imagine (and neither could Dean), but the hunter who called it in to Bobby seemed pretty certain.

I was trawling the Internet, talking to Elizabeth –

And then up came the first victim photo.

Dean had done a lot of the research for this himself – he'd made me sit opposite him, so I couldn't see the screen, and talk him through hacking into the local PD's servers. My protests had been met with, "Shut up, Sam. You don't want to see this."

When I saw the photo, I knew why. Black dogs are messy killers, and this one…

_Oh, God._

I needed Dean. I needed him freaking _yesterday_.

* * *

><p>So, of course, there was a storm that took cell phone reception out.<p>

This isn't as ridiculous a coincidence as it sounds. I know even Murphy's Law isn't that bad, but right now cell phone reception is gone more often than it's there. We get an incredible number of electrical storms. Scientists and weathermen and trying to explain it away as freak sunspot activity, but… Dean and I don't talk about it, but we both know what's causing the weirdness – Castiel, doing whatever the hell he's doing to "severely punish" the angels who opposed him.

I looked up from frantically dialling Dean's number for the fourth time. "I can't get through."

"What do you need, Sam?" Elizabeth asked. "I'll get it for you."

That was sweet of her, but…

"I need Dean."

She sighed. "OK. Come on. I'll drive you there."

"You don't have to –"

"I know I don't. But I _did _promise Dean I'd watch out for you. He said he needed parts for the Impala, right? There's a twenty-four-hour auto repair shop half a mile away. He's probably there. Let's go check it out."

Elizabeth drove – she had a blue Maserati that Dean would have _hated_. We went to the auto repair shop. It was empty except for a kid in an orange Hawaiian-print shirt and denim shorts lounging at a desk smoking a cigarette. Yes, he said, a tall guy (it gave me a start to hear Elizabeth describe Dean as "a tall guy") had come by wanting parts for a V8. Sure, he'd asked about bars nearby, and Hawaiian dude had recommended one just half a mile down.

Elizabeth drove some more.

The bar was loud and smoky and smelled of cheap liquor, just like most bars Dean and I have been in. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose as we stepped through the door, but when I asked her if she wanted to leave she shook her head firmly.

"Something's obviously wrong with you, Sam," she said. Normally that would have upset me. I hate it when people shoot sideways glances at me and ask Dean – as they do way too often now – if his brother is "special". (Dean hates it even more. Last time some smartass did that Dean stuck a pistol in his face and said smoothly, "Yeah, my brother _is _special. Special enough to have gone to Stanford on a full ride. Any other questions?") But Elizabeth didn't sound mocking or disgusted; she sounded genuinely concerned. "I promised your brother I'd take care of you," she went on. "Now, come on. Let's find him."

Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Dean was in front of us. He was holding a pool cue – he'd obviously been trying to replenish our cash supplies – and there was a vaguely familiar-looking blonde trailing after him.

God knows how Dean spotted us – the pool tables were all the way at the other end of the bar, and the place was so smoky you could barely see two feet. (_Fine_, Dean. The Big Brother Radar is the best thing ever. Dean Winchester is awesome. Can I go on now?)

"Sammy?" Dean asked. "What is it?" I was suddenly tongue-tied. Words wouldn't come, and my silence alarmed Dean even more. "_Sammy?_"

"He was getting a bit… upset," Elizabeth said. "And there's something wrong with the phones."

"I'll bet there is," Dean muttered, whipping out his cell phone and looking at it. He scowled at the screen and went into a long whispered rant, of which I only caught the words "keeping Sam from contacting me", "bloody angel", and "going to sell his wings to Colonel Sanders".

"Hey!" A tall guy – and I mean _tall_; even _I _had to look up at him – pushed through the crowd. He was holding a pool cue, too. "You finishing the game or what?"

"No… You know what, you keep the money. I've kind of got some stuff to do."

"The hell you have! I don't need your money, kid. Now come back and finish the game."

Dean glared at the tall guy. "Dude –"

"_Dean_," Elizabeth whispered sharply. "Just finish the game. I'll stay with Sam."

Dean turned to scowl at her. Completely unimpressed, she gestured meaningfully at three or four of the tall guy's tall friends, who were watching from across the room.

I could practically hear the cogs in Dean's head. If it had been a good night for me, he and I could have taken the guys on, outnumbered or not… But if it had been a good night for me, I wouldn't have had to come running to my big brother to begin with.

Dean shot an anxious glance at me. I tried to smile reassuringly through the litany of, "_See? You're always making things difficult for him_," in Lucifer's voice in my head.

Dean didn't look convinced, but there weren't a lot of options.

"Fine," he said. "We'll finish the game. Elizabeth, I'll be quick."

"I wouldn't count on it," the blonde purred, running a hand down Dean's arm. "I've got plans for us… Liz might have to keep your friend occupied a little longer."

_Liz?_ They knew each other?

"My brother," Dean said distractedly, already making his way back to the pool table. He obviously wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"Your _brother_?" the blonde asked, staring after Dean's retreating back. "You're…" She looked at me. "You're _Sam Winchester_?"

"Umm… Yeah," I said uncomfortably.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

I felt myself flush. Was it that obvious that I was messed up? Was it so obvious that even some random stranger could tell, just by looking at me, that I was _wrong_?

"Shut up, Cindy," Elizabeth said sharply.

_Cindy?_ The name rang a bell.

And then – _of course_. The other cheerleader, the one who was Elizabeth's cousin. _That_ was why she looked familiar. It figured: I ran into an old friend in Parkersburg, and in school Dean had made a lot more lady friends than I had.

"I'm just saying," Cindy said, dragging my attention back to the present. "_Look _at him. He's the size of a caribou, and he still runs to his big brother when he gets a paper-cut? Come _on_, Liz! Dean deserves to have a life – he shouldn't have to put everything he wants to do on hold just because his little brother is afraid of the dark."

"Cindy –"

"You're selfish, you know that?" Cindy said to me, ignoring Elizabeth. "You keep on like this and your brother is never going to be happy."

This had to be the Cage. That had to be it. Dean had explained it to me. When people I only half-remembered showed up and started telling me about how he didn't want me or I disappointed him, it wasn't real. It was Lucifer talking through the screwed-up memories he'd left in my head.

"Sam?" Elizabeth said anxiously. It sounded like she was talking from a long way away.

Dimly I heard snatches of Cindy's voice.

"… exactly what I mean…"

"… _ridiculous _drama…"

"… freaking helpless _child_…"

Not real. That _had_ to be it. I sat down in the nearest chair, lowered my head to my knees and shut my eyes. This wasn't real. Not real not real notrealnotrealnotreal.

"_Sam!_"

I felt a hand on my head, but I ignored it. Time passed – I think it was about ten minutes, though I can never be sure of time when the Hell-memories start.

Then the hand went away, there were anxious voices, and another hand descended to my shoulder – harder, this one, rougher and more anxious.

"Sammy?" That was Dean's voice. "What's wrong, kiddo?" A moment, and then, "_Sam!_ Look at me!"

I looked up. Dean was crouched in front of me, eyes wide – scared.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm here."

I looked around. We were still in the bar – still noisy, still smoky, still reeking.

But that couldn't be. If the woman – Cindy – had been a hallucination, then the bar had to be a hallucination, too. And Dean was back, so if the bar was a hallucination, then so was Dean, and –

And if Dean was real, so was everything else.

"Dean," I said helplessly.

"Right here, Sammy."

"Is it real?" Dean looked surprised, and I asked again, more urgently. "Dean, please – I have to know. _Is this real?_"

Dean squeezed my shoulder. "Yeah, Sammy. This is real."

I felt my heart break. Because if this was real – if Cindy had been real – then everything she'd said had been real, too.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

And then, because I couldn't stand to sit there and look at Dean's worried, bewildered face and think about how if it hadn't been for me he'd have been having a good time with Cindy, I got up, pushed past him and Elizabeth, and left the bar.

* * *

><p>So… The second (and final) part should be up in a few days, and along with that a preview of coming attractions. ;-)<p>

What did you think? Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **So… here's Part II. I was going to end it here, but after the reviews for the last chapter I realized that would be cheating people out of something they'd really like to read. Therefore… stay tuned for an epilogue! ;-)

**Disclaimer:** I own none of it.

Thanks to Cheryl, for everything.

Thanks to crazybeagle, TinTin11, Katy M VT, SkeksisGirl, SandyDee84, jensengirl4eva, cold kagome, Sauterelle, Eavis, cookjar, winchestersunited, happycabbage75, jafreckleslover, JustShyOfMe, LeilanaIce, SPN Mum, BranchSuper, Scribble2Much, snlover10, giacinta, Hunnique, Sparkiebunny, criminally charmed and MysteryMadchen for the reviews.

* * *

><p><strong>Part II: Dean<strong>

I'm taking over the story now. You let Sam tell the rest of it and he'll just go all emo and list all the fifty-three stupid reasons he has for why his existence is a curse to me, and he'll probably completely forget the part about how he took down a black dog on his own, armed with nothing more than a _pen-knife_.

Yup, that's right. A pen-knife. _Wicked_, right? That's my Sammy.

But that part of the story comes later.

So, Sam left off at the point where he randomly decided that all the crap Cindy had spouted at him was true, and even more randomly decided that the way to deal with it was to run out of the bar. _Alone._ On a bad night in a town containing a suspected black dog. (Not one of your brightest moments, Sammy.)

I have to state for the record that at that point I hadn't got the slightest clue what had happened to upset him. If I'd known and had _still _let the situation get out of hand like that, I'd deserve to lose my big brother status permanently.

I was at the pool table, no longer trying to hustle, just getting the balls into the pockets as quickly as I could so I could get back to Sam. I collected the four hundred dollars that the guy grudgingly gave me and went straight back to where I'd left Sam and Elizabeth.

Sam had that _look_ – the look that said he was hovering on the edge of slipping into the Cage and I was the only thing standing between him and the abyss. Elizabeth was saying something, but I ignored her, dropping to a crouch in front of Sam instead.

"Sammy?" I asked. "What's wrong, kiddo?" When he didn't respond, I said, "Sam! Look at me!"

Sam did. "Dean?"

He always sounds like a freaking four-year-old when he says my name in _that _tone – like a four-year-old who still thinks his big brother is a superhero.

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm here."

I expected relief but the misery in Sam's face deepened. "Dean," he said again, voice shaking this time.

"Right here, Sammy."

"Is this real?" I was surprised – I hadn't thought Sam was far gone enough to start mixing up reality and his memories. "Dean, please – I have to know! Is this real?"

I squeezed his shoulder. "Yeah, Sammy. This is real."

I left _And I'm here_ unspoken, although in retrospect I think I should've said it. It would have spared Sam a lot of pain and me a lot of worry. As it was, Sam looked at me, mumbled an apology, and… Well, you know the rest. Sam ran for it.

Elizabeth, giving me a death-glare, went after him. I was about to follow when the pool guy showed up and shoved his hand in my chest.

"Not so fast, tough guy. I want a rematch."

"Go to hell," I said, trying to get past him.

"Hey, man, you've got to let me try to win my money back. It's only fair."

"_Dude_," I said warningly. Because, yeah, he was even taller than Sam, and, yeah, he had four friends, but if he came between me and my little brother, I would do anything I had to.

As it turned out, I had to deliver a couple of hard left hooks and shove one of the guys into a barstool before they got the hint. By the time _that _was done, I'd lost precious minutes. Sam, long-legged freak that he is, could have gone anywhere.

Of course, I had a few advantages. For one thing, Sam wasn't really trying to cover his tracks. For another, even if he'd walked as stealthily as only a trained hunter could, I could still have followed Elizabeth's tracks. And on top of all that… Big Brother Radar. (Shut up, Sam. It's a real thing.)

I considered going after them on foot – that made more sense when searching for people – but I figured that if Sam was hurt or spacing out, it would be better to have the Impala right there than to try to walk him back to it.

Driving, it took me about ten minutes to find them.

When I did, my heart almost stopped.

Sam and the girl has made their way to a small park. As I drew up to it, I saw a GranCabrio – navy, probably, although it was too dark to tell – pulled up at the curb. I assumed that was Elizabeth's car. Can't imagine how Sam would've fit into it. Sammy needs a car like the Impala. She knows him. I can _trust_ him with her: my baby would never let my brother get hurt. Or even let him get backache from having to fold himself into a space too small for him.

_Anyway_ – GranCabrio, noted, and then I took a closer look at Sam.

He was standing in under a tree facing off against a huge, dark, dog-shaped shadow.

While my mind raced through the usual sequence of shock, horror and _please not Sam_, my eye was taking in the details. Sam was using one hand to hold Elizabeth behind him – she looked scared, but she also looked like if there weren't two hundred pounds of muscle holding her back, she'd be facing the black dog _with_ Sam, not cowering behind him. That made her a perfect girl in my book.

In his free hand, Sam had a pen-knife. (He doesn't routinely carry his Taurus with him anymore – not unless we're sure it's going to be a good day. I wanted him to keep a couple of knives on him instead, because I'm damned if I'm letting Sammy walk around unarmed. He refused – "I might hurt someone, Dean" – so we finally came to a compromise. Sam carries a pen-knife, because on his _good_ days that's as lethal as a gun in my brother's hands, and when he's hallucinating he can't focus long enough to get the blade out, so he can't hurt innocent bystanders.)

"Oh, _God_!" I gasped. "_Sammy!_"

Then I was running, running like I was trying to outrun Hell – and in a way I was, because watching Sam being killed by an overgrown poodle on _my _watch? I'd rather bring Alastair back to life and give myself to him as a chew toy for his pets.

I had my gun out. I fired, once, twice – the dog yelped but didn't fall. I'd only winged it.

And then it leapt at me. All I could think was _thank God it's not on Sammy anymore_.

Its weight took me to the ground. I hoped desperately that Sam would run, knew he wouldn't, and could have groaned in despair when I heard him yell, "Get off him and fight someone your own size!"

_Awesome._

My moron brother actually managed to attract the black dog's attention with the racket he was making. Just when I was dead certain it was going to go for my throat, it got off me and turned to face Sam.

Sam had that _look_ on his face – the look he had when he took down a dragon with half a sword.

It's his, "You tried to take my big brother away," look.

Even as logic told me Terminator and Rambo together couldn't stand against Sam while he had _that_ expression, and every instinct I had was screaming at me to _do something_ because _Sam can't take a black dog down by himself with just a pen-knife, halfwit_, it howled –

And jumped –

It was going for Sam's neck, which, since he's Sam, was kind of high. When the dog's paws were off the ground Sam ducked, coming up again just as it was sailing over the spot where his head _had_ been.

The dog's clawed feet raked at his chest.

Sam ignored the sudden spurt of blood and thrust the knife upwards with one efficient movement –

Just like that, it was over.

For a long moment, the dog whined and panted and tried to get up. After what seemed like hours, it went still. Sam and Elizabeth and I just stood and looked at each other.

Then, with a horrible, choking sob, Sam ran. He didn't go far: he vaulted over the fence surrounding the park and collapsed into a heap on the curb.

"Sam!"

Before I could go to him, Elizabeth stopped me with one tiny hand planted squarely in the middle of my chest.

_What the hell, woman?_ Was she _stupid_?

No, seriously. I'd thought Elizabeth was smart, but here she was, keeping me away from an injured, hurting and possibly hallucinating little brother – and she barely came up to my shoulder. Did she _want_ to die young?

"What the –"

"What were you thinking?" she interrupted angrily. "Are you insane?"

"Oh, I'm sorry I tried to save your life. I won't do it again. If that's all you wanted, my brother needs me and –"

"The hell he does! He needed you in the bar! He needed you to tell him what Cindy said wasn't true and you –"

"Cindy? Who's Cindy?"

"My cousin." My incomprehension must have showed, because Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "You're _hopeless_. My cousin _Cindy_. Blonde girl you were chatting up in the bar?"

Oh, yeah. Blonde girl whom I completely forgot about when Sam ran out on me.

"I thought her name was Marcia," I said.

"No, Marcia was her friend – _was _her friend, until you – you know what? Never mind. You don't have to remember Cindy's name or Marcia's name. That was years ago. It doesn't matter. But Sam – how could you do that to him? He practically _worships_ you." She poked me hard in the ribs. "I didn't know Sam well when we were kids – nobody did. But the one thing that was obvious to everyone was that he thought the sun rose and set with _you_. He still does. And when she said all those things –"

"What the hell did Marcia say?"

"_Cindy!_"

"OK, OK, what did _Cindy_ say?"

Elizabeth told me.

About three seconds later, I was sitting on the curb next to Sam, close, but not touching him. He was on the edge, and there was no knowing if physical contact would pull him back or push him over.

"Hey," I said lightly. Sam said nothing. His shaggy hair hung over his face, hiding his eyes. "That was pretty awesome, dude. You took down a black dog." Still nothing. "It got you, though, didn't it? Can I see, Sam?"

Sam shook his head, drawing in closer on himself.

"Hey, don't do that. Come on, let's go back to the motel and I'll patch you up."

"You don't have to."

_Yay. Here we go again._

"No," I said. "I don't. We could go to a clinic." I expected a protest. When Sam was silent I had a moment's panic – would Sam _really_ prefer some _doctor_ stitching him up? Had that horrible Marcia or Cynthia or whatever her name was upset him that much? "Sammy? Would you… would you rather have a doctor do it?"

"Sam," Elizabeth said, "I'll take you to a doctor if you want."

Sam mumbled something in which I only managed to catch the words _and you've got too much to do anyway_.

"Sam," I sighed. "You know better than that. Come on, now – we can go to a clinic, or you can let me take a look at it." Sam ducked his head. "Sammy?"

"You do it."

I let out a breath, feeling like those three words were the universe's most heartening vote of confidence, and just managed not to say _I told you so _to Elizabeth. "OK, kiddo, whatever you want." I shifted a little closer. "I need you to sit up a little and move your arms out of the way, Sam. I need to see." Huge, wet eyes met mine. "Come on, Sammy." I still didn't dare touch him, not unless he was the one to initiate contact. "Let me see."

Slowly, Sam moved his arms aside.

As far as I could tell without touching it, it wasn't a life-threatening injury. It was bleeding like a bitch, but the cuts didn't look too deep. If I took Sam back to the motel and patched him up, he'd be fine in a couple of days.

"You're going to be OK, Sammy," I said. "Can you stand?"

"Help me?"

_There_ was the permission I'd been waiting for. I pulled Sam's arm around my shoulders, put one hand on his chest to steady him, and hauled us both upright. Sam swayed for a minute before gaining his balance. Once he did, he managed to support most of his own weight, which I took for the good sign that it was.

"Impala's right here, Sammy."

Elizabeth made to move to Sam's other side, but stopped when I shook my head at her. Sam still wasn't 100% there; there was a good chance he'd freak out if anybody else touched him. She went to the Impala instead, pulling open the passenger door and holding it while I settled Sam inside.

* * *

><p>Back at the motel, Elizabeth, who'd followed us there in her GranCabrio, hurried out and opened the motel room door. I got Sam inside, deposited him on his bed, and went to get our stuff. By the time I was back, Elizabeth had filled a bowl with cool water and dropped a washcloth in it.<p>

I _definitely _liked this girl.

"Thanks," I said, sitting on the other bed opposite Sam. They were close enough together that our knees were almost touching. _Almost_ was good: I didn't want to force contact on him, but I did want to be close enough to make him feel safe. "How're you doing, kiddo?"

Sam shrugged.

Bad sign. His head was in a worse state than his body right then, and that was what I had to deal with first.

"Upset about Marcia, huh?" I asked.

"Cindy," Sam corrected automatically, just like I'd intended him to.

"You remember _my _date's name? You're hopeless, Sammy!" Sam grinned – briefly; it was gone in seconds, but at least it showed up. "What did she say?" Nothing. "C'mon, kiddo. You can tell big brother."

"Said I was being selfish," Sam mumbled.

"Uh-huh." I leaned closer. "What else?"

Sam unconsciously mimicked my action, leaning towards me as he whispered, "Said you would never be happy as long as I was around." He looked up at me, eyes wide and pleading. "Was it real?"

I'm tempted to say no. No, it wasn't real; Cindy and her hurtful words were a figment of Sam's imagination. But lying to each other has already caused us enough trouble.

"Yeah, Sammy. It was real – hey, hold on, listen to me." I grasped his shoulders, leaned forward further, turning the world into a tiny space that only contained the two of us. "It was real – but that doesn't mean it was _true_. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Sam looked at me blankly. "She was _wrong_, Sam." Sam didn't look convinced, so I added, "Think about it. Where am I now? Not with Cindy."

Sam's face crumpled into sorrow and guilt.

_Idiot_, I fumed silently. _You want to find a way to shove the other foot in there, too?_

"Come on, Sammy, you know I didn't mean it like that. Cindy's a great girl, and I'm going to be going back to have a word with her later… but right now I want to be here. I have a little brother to watch out for." I squeezed his shoulder. "And I wouldn't give that up for anything. My little brother's pretty awesome."

That did it. Sam slumped forward, head going down on my shoulder, hands coming up to clutch my shirt. He was trembling. He was probably cold: the jacket I'd made him put on was lying over the back of a chair. He must've taken it off when he'd come in with Elizabeth and then forgotten it in his hurry to get to me.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

><p>Elizabeth was an incredibly efficient helper. She didn't panic, didn't scream or gag at the sight of blood, and didn't try to touch Sam. She stood next to me and handed me what I needed from the first aid kit, usually before I'd even asked for it.<p>

"That's it," I soothed as I put in the last stitch. "We're done. How about you get some sleep now, Sammy?" Sam's eyes widened. I knew what that meant. "No nightmares, Sam. I'm going to be right here. You'll be fine. OK?"

I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Sam's head until his eyes closed and his death-grip on my sleeve loosened enough for me to pull away. "Thanks," I told Elizabeth. "That was… surprisingly easy."

"I work with children at the local community centre," she explained. Then, "What's wrong with Sam?"

Normally I went ballistic on people who asked that question, but I thought Elizabeth had earned the right, if not to the whole truth, at least to a part of it.

"Sam was a… prisoner of war," I said. "For over a year and a half. They… didn't treat him very well."

"Sam was in the army?"

"He was a Marine." Because if the Marines are always faithful, my little brother _definitely_ deserves that title. "He… Well, you know Sam. He hated the idea of being a soldier. But it kind of got forced on him."

"Oh." After a long pause, she added, "I'm sorry for yelling at you."

I quirked an eyebrow. "What caused the change of heart?"

"Sam trusts you."

"Sam trusts everyone."

"No, he doesn't. Sam's _nice_ to everyone. There's a difference. I don't think he's ever really, completely trusted anyone but you… Anyway. I should be going. Sam needs to rest."

"Sure… Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Will we see you again?"

Elizabeth smiled crookedly. "Don't take this wrong way – Sam's adorable, and if things were different… Or if I even thought I could help him somehow… But I can't, and I'm not the one he needs." She patted my shoulder. "Take care of him."

"I will."

Elizabeth drove away, and I went back inside and pulled a chair up to Sam's bed so I could watch him while he slept.

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

* * *

><p>Like I said, it was <em>meant<em> to end there, but in response to popular demand, there's going to be an epilogue. Meanwhile… Coming attractions:

* * *

><p>"Tell me again how we wound up here," I muttered, looking around at the milling crowd. It was even worse than the last time had been: that had just been surreal and annoying; <em>this <em>was surreal and creepy.

"_Relax_, Dean," said Sam. He seemed _amused_, the freak. "The whole thing is probably a prank – that's what Bobby thought, anyway. We can dig around, ask some questions. If it turns out to be someone trying to make the LARPing a little too exciting, that'll be the end of it. We'll be in another state by tomorrow night."

* * *

><p>The witch is occupied with Sam – I cringe as I hear the sound of his head hitting the wall, that <em>has <em>to hurt – and she doesn't notice that I'm back on my feet and scrambling for her altar.

I spare a glance in their direction as I look for what Sam told me would be there. It doesn't take me long to find it – a medallion engraved with some freaky circular symbol. Hecate's Wheel, Sam said, and then he gave me one of his geek-boy lectures about chthonic deities and witchcraft at crossroads and some dead Greek dude who was apparently as big a nerd as Sam.

* * *

><p>So… Who's in the mood for some amulet fix-it? (Because, as someone told me a while ago, I have amulet fixation!)<p> 


	3. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**Author's Note: **So… Here it is. As promised. Warning: This chapter has no purpose other than to let Dean be unpleasant to Cindy.

Thanks to Cheryl, as always.

Thanks to the good people who reviewed: criminally charmed, Eavis, Sparkiebunny, cold kagome, crazybeagle, angeleyenc, MysteryMadchen, SPN Mum, twomoms, BranchSuper, SandyDee84, Sauterelle, cookjar, casammy, Scribble2Much and TinTin11.

I won't be putting up anything much else for the next week or so – going to be travelling. I _will_ try to have something ready after that to help speed up the last ten days of the summer break. ;-)

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue: Cindy<strong>

I always liked Dean Winchester. He was… well, _everything_ a girl wants. _Hot _doesn't describe it. He was _smoking_. Devilish, rebellious; who could ever resist that attitude? (Other than Elizabeth, I mean… Nobody who knows us can believe we're even related. Liz is such a stupid little geek. I don't think she's grown beyond the age of _twelve_, mentally.)

I fell in love with Dean one day in high school, a few weeks after I first met him.

It was after school – pretty late, actually, and cheerleading practice was just over. I was the last one to leave the gym. (Brad Walters, captain of the football team, was watching the practice, and he was the hottest guy I'd met until Dean.) I chatted with Brad for a moment – he was completely, totally in love with me; it was almost _pathetic_ to watch – and then we left the gym together.

Dean was standing outside. He had a nice car – all black and shiny, although it looked a little _old_ – and he was leaning against the passenger door, watching the school gate intently.

Of course, I knew he'd been waiting to talk to me. All the boys had done it at one time or another.

It's embarrassing, sometimes, being so popular.

Normally I ignored the guys who tried to force their stupid conversation on me, but I could see right away that Dean was something else. He was tall (even high school) without being _too_ tall, with smouldering green eyes. Those eyes were on the main school building, not the gym – he probably thought I'd go back to get something from my locker.

"Hey, Dean," I said softly, going up to him. "Waiting for someone?"

"Hmmm… Oh, hi, Gloria –"

"Cindy," I corrected. He was so desperate to talk to me that he couldn't even remember my name. That was so sweet.

"Oh, sorry, _Cindy_. Hi, Cindy. Yeah, I'm waiting for my brother. He's got some stupid study group thing."

"That's too bad," I said. I had to give Dean credit for coming up with a good excuse. Handsome _and _smart. "I guess I'll just have to keep you company while you wait."

Dean looked at me.

His expression changed in seconds. All the anxiety vanished from his face, to be replaced by a blinding smile that made my heart speed up a little.

There was something between us, and Dean felt it, too.

Of _course_ Sam had to ruin it at that exact moment for coming out of the building, the stupid little geek. Couldn't he have _seen _that Dean and I were about to get busy and hung around inside for a while, doing whatever it is geeky kids do?

The rest of it doesn't matter. Not right now. The point is, that was when I fell in love with Dean Winchester.

A few weeks later, he and Sam packed up and left. I was happy, at the time, because I'd just found out that Dean had been seeing Marcia behind my back… I didn't realize then (although I did later) that it was just a sign of how confused he was.

Then, _years_ later, they showed up again.

That's where I was before I got distracted, wasn't it? That evening I met Dean in the bar. I could scarcely believe my luck – I'd almost lost hope of ever seeing him again! He seemed to remember me – it took some prompting, and for some reason he kept calling me Marcia – but we got there in the end. He seemed genuinely happy to see me, and _I _was happy that Sam seemed to have _finally_ stopped tagging along with him.

So, as you can probably imagine, I was _seriously_ upset when Liz and Sam came stumbling into the bar looking for Dean. I didn't know it was Sam at first – I mean, what kind of loser is still tagging along with his older brother when he's, what, thirty? When I realized who it was, it was like some kind of horrible déjà vu. Sam and Liz had ruined nearly all my romantic moments with Dean in high school, and now the stupid kids were doing it _again_.

Yeah, I lost my temper. Can you blame me? My life was being turned upside down by that pesky little nerd brother of Dean's. _Again._

The rest of the night was a total loss. Sam got upset and ran for it like some half-witted child. Elizabeth, after glaring at me as though it was somehow _my _fault that the kid was oversensitive, followed. Dean went after them; I could tell he really wanted to stay with me, but he obviously still felt obligated to take care of his brother.

Maybe Sam was _special_. That would explain a lot.

Anyway, I left right after Dean did. There wasn't much left for me to do that night. I was planning to speak to Elizabeth the next day – she might know where Dean and Sam were staying.

I went to bed as soon as I got home. I fully intended to track Dean down the next day – I wasn't some Disney princess to sit around waiting for _him_ to come find _me_ – and I needed to be at my best.

When I woke up, it was still dark outside. There was someone in the room – I could see a silhouette against the window – and I almost screamed before I realized that it was Dean. I could recognize the sound of his breathing. It was short and quick.

My heart skipped a beat. He hadn't been able to wait until morning to find me.

"Dean?" I asked. I probably should have been upset with him for breaking into my apartment, but I understood. It was only because he loved me. How could I get upset over that? "How did you find me?"

"Never mind," he said. He was so nervous that he almost sounded angry. I could sympathize. I understood how he felt, how important this moment was to him – to _us_. "We need to talk. Get dressed. I'll be waiting in the living room."

He left. I hurriedly pulled on some clothes and followed him out.

Dean was standing in my little dining room, leaning against the wall by the lamp. The yellow light threw half his face into shadow. He looked mysterious and compelling and just so _hot_ I could barely breathe.

"Dean," I said as steadily as I could. "What did you want to talk about?"

He looked at me. I couldn't quite read his expression.

"Sam was terrified," he said at last. I was a little surprised that he thought he had to explain himself – I knew how sweet and noble and selfless he was; I understood that he'd felt he had to help his brother, even if what he'd really wanted had been to spend the evening with me.

"That's OK," I said as reassuringly as I could. "I get it –"

"No, you _don't_ bloody get it!" Dean snapped. "_Sam was terrified. _That's not supposed to happen. That's never supposed to happen. Sam is _never _supposed to need to be afraid of _anything _when I'm there."

"Baby, I understand –"

"_Good. Then you know why I'm here._"

I blinked. This was starting to confuse me a little. I couldn't shake the feeling that the tremor in Dean's voice was more anger than passion.

"Dean –"

"You upset Sammy." Dean pushed himself away from the wall. "Sammy was getting on with Elizabeth. All he wanted was to reassure himself that I was _there_. He needed me to talk to him for a couple of minutes and then he would have been _fine_. He would have spent the evening with Elizabeth. He _liked _Elizabeth and she didn't make him feel like a freak."

"Dean, I don't –"

"You made Sammy think he was weak. You have no _idea _what my brother's been through. The things they did to him – and I'm all he's got. _Do you understand that? _When it gets really bad, I'm the only one he'll talk to. And _you_ made him think he couldn't ask for my help."

"Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't –"

I stopped short when I saw the gun pointed in my direction.

"You," Dean ground out, "are coming with me."

Dean put some kind of black thing over my head. It didn't suffocate me or anything, but I couldn't see. He took my arm and marched me downstairs and outside. I tried reasoning with him – I understood, I really did. He was frustrated with having to look after Sam, he was in love with me and didn't know how to show it; the poor baby was just confused.

But Dean was too upset to listen. I let it go. I was sure he cared about me too much to hurt me, and we could sort everything out later.

We drove for around half an hour, and then Dean brought the car to an abrupt halt. I heard gravel hitting the underside of the chassis.

"Listen," Dean hissed in my ear. "I had to leave Sammy alone for over an hour while I tracked you down. He was sleeping, so if you're lucky, he'll be OK. If he had nightmares when I wasn't there, I'm going to be even madder."

"Sam's –"

"Come on."

Dean pulled me out of the car. I heard him fumble at a lock, he pushed me a few feet forward, and then he _finally_ took off the thing covering my eyes.

We were in a motel room. Twin beds. The nearer one was empty. Sam was asleep in the far one. He was hugging something to his chest like a teddy bear. I couldn't tell what it was. He was tossing and muttering. The blankets were tangled around his feet.

"_Damn it_." Dean shoved me into a chair and ran to Sam. "No, come on, kiddo. Wake up." He shook Sam. Sam huddled back against his pillow like he was afraid. "Sammy, please. Wake up for me. I'm here."

It happened almost too fast for me to see. Dean gave Sam another, harder shake. Sam's eyes flew open and he flung himself at his brother, dropping the thing he was holding. Dean didn't even grunt when Sam's full weight hit him. He wrapped his arms around the brat and held him close.

I couldn't help thinking of what a wonderful father Dean would make.

"Right here, Sammy," Dean whispered. "It's OK, little brother. Everything's OK. You're safe. I'm here."

Sam smiled, relaxing a little.

Then his eyes fell on me and widened with something very like fear. It was ridiculous: Sam was about twice as tall as I was, and wide to match. I couldn't imagine _why _he'd be scared of anyone, leave alone of me. Probably had some deep-rooted psychological issues. I could see the kid stiffen as he pushed away from Dean. At least he still had enough sense to know he shouldn't be clutching at his older brother where people could see.

Dean followed Sam's gaze and frowned at me, as though it was _my _fault the stupid kid was being weird. I really needed to get Dean away from Sam – he was a bad influence.

"That's OK, Sammy." Dean grabbed Sam and pulled him back. "It's just Marcia."

"Cindy," I corrected. Dean ignored me.

"Sam." Dean gave his brother another light shake. "Hey. Look at me." Sam looked up at him. "Trust me, kiddo?"

It took about half a second for the fear to vanish from Sam's expression, replaced by a mixture of adoration and faith that I wouldn't have believed was possible if I weren't actually seeing it.

Huh. Maybe there was a reason Dean seemed to like hanging out with the kid so much.

"Marcia has something to say to you," Dean went on. I didn't bother to correct him: I had a feeling he was getting my name wrong on purpose, just to see if he could get on my nerves.

I was also starting to think that maybe, just _maybe_, he cared more about Sam than about having the perfect future with me.

Sam had his head on Dean's chest, looking at me over his brother's arm.

"_Marcia?_" Dean prompted.

I sighed. Apparently there was no getting out of it. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Sam. It's not your fault that you're special."

Sam flinched.

A minute later, Dean had my arm in a death grip.

"That's it," he growled. "You had your chance. Let's go."

Sam scrambled to his feet. "Dean, don't!"

"Wait here, Sammy. Stay awake. I'll be back soon."

"Dean –"

"Hey." Dean let me go long enough to go back to Sam and run a hand through his hair. "I thought you trusted me, Sammy."

He stayed there until Sam (reluctantly, I thought; the kid _still _didn't want to give us even a minute alone together) nodded and backed down.

After another drive – a harrowing one, during which I was blindfolded again and Dean tied my _hands _together and then took corners at stomach-twisting speeds and drove over rocky ground so fast I was sure the car was going to fall to pieces – we came to an abrupt stop. We got out. Dean grabbed my arm and guided me forward, not answering any questions or saying a word.

We seemed to be going uphill. I stumbled a couple of times, but Dean kept me on my feet.

We stopped.

"You want to try taking a step?" Dean said softly.

I reached out with my foot, and encountered empty air.

"Dean." My voice sounded harsh in my own ears. I swallowed. "Dean, baby, let's talk about this."

"I tried to be nice," Dean growled. "Took you to Sammy. Gave you a chance to set things right."

"Dean, please –"

"So we're going to try this another way." He turned me around on the spot, quickly, so that my sense of direction was shot. I had no idea which way we'd come from… And no idea which way the ground was going to drop away. "Good luck, _Cindy_."

I felt Dean back away, but he made absolutely no noise and I couldn't tell which direction he was moving.

"Dean!"

I was starting to get a little angry… Dean was taking this protect-Sam thing too far.

There was total silence.

"_Dean!_" I yelled.

Nothing.

I had to – I had to do something. If he'd gone – I couldn't wait here. I had to –

Maybe if I crouched and tried to feel around?

I started to sink to my knees.

I was halfway down when I felt the ground under me begin to give way. I screamed.

I fell –

About a foot, and then I hit earth, scraping my elbows and forearms on something rough and hard.

"Not much fun, is it?" I heard Dean say, close to my ear again.

He pulled off the blindfold and I looked around. I was sitting on the ground between a pair of fallen logs – Dean must have got me up on one without my realizing it, and when I went to crouch the shift in my weight made it roll.

"I thought – how could you _do _that?" I demanded, near tears.

"_That_ isn't even a patch on what Sam went through, for longer than you could possibly imagine. So here's the thing." There was a terrifying edge of menace in his voice. "I'm going to take you home now. Then I'm going back to Sam. If I _ever_ see you near him again, there'll be _hell_ to pay."

"But, Dean – what about us?"

He looked at me in disbelief. "_Us?_ The only reason I haven't killed you is that it would upset Sam if I did! There is no _us_. Now let's go."

I let it go – that time. Maybe Dean needed to grow up a little more. Maybe he needed to outgrow his brother.

Maybe when that happened he'd come back to me.

And maybe if it didn't, _I _would go find _him_.

* * *

><p>Vengeful enough?<p>

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


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